


The King of Pain and Hurt

by HermineKurotowa



Series: Four Paws [2]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Hurt Jared, Hurt Jensen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 05:36:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8736850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermineKurotowa/pseuds/HermineKurotowa
Summary: If Jensen was another person, he could be happy now.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to The Moon and the Truth, better read that one first.  
> Written for j2_reversebang, inspired by bluefire986's great art that kicked my muse in the butt, even though I didn't want to write a sequel.  
> Title from Diana Vickers' The Boy who Murdered Love.  
> Many thanks to my wonderful beta jj1564. Kisses, squishes and hugs, my honey!

 

  


 

 

Sometimes, he dreams of blood and bones, spilling and breaking. Of skin tearing and muscles ripping.

Those are the good dreams.

The bad ones are of woods and wind, rough fur under his hands, dirt under his paws. They make him ache for running, stretching his legs like he was never able to do, and when he wakes, he's shivering so much, he thinks he can feel his bones rattle.

The bad dreams hurt on a molecular level, tug on every single somatic cell.

Jared says he needs to let go, let loose his wolf. Embrace him, accept him – he talks about Jensen's beast as if it was a person, and Jensen can feel the need to change when it talks to him, begging him with feelings and emotions, howling lonely and sad in his mind.

But Jensen remembers vividly what he did when the beast took charge just once. He remembers the taste of blood and guts, the noise of bones crunched between his teeth.

It felt so _good._

It just proves what a bad person he is – as why would Omundson have chosen him, of all people?

Omundson, the bastard, is dead because Jensen's beast killed him with enthusiasm so he can't ask him _why_ – but he knows these things never would have happened to a good person. Now he is stuck in a village full of werewolves, which is not as weird a thing to believe as he ever thought it would be.

Jensen hears the door creek before he smells the visitor.

It's a brown-coated wolf, limping slowly to his side and sitting down with a flop and a huff, resting his head on his paws.

They watch the garden and the woods beyond silently, and as usual, Jensen's hand creeps into thick, brown fur, ruffling and fondling it.

Poor Luke is another victim of Omundson's machinations. At first, it was hard for Jensen to stand his presence, but after having seen how broken the wolf was, he bonded with him. It's one thing that Jensen – new to this wolf thing – refuses to change from two to four legs, from skin to coat; but it's something completely different that Luke – born into being wolf and human in equal shares – refuses to shed his wolf form, forced into fur during long years so he lost the ability to change, maybe even forgot how to do it.

Jared says that Luke will heal eventually; that having a mate will help regain his sanity and health, but it will take time. And then he glances at Jensen, a fragile smile appearing on his lips.

Jensen is not stupid. He knows that Jared, telling tales of _mates_ and _bonding_ , hopes to become Jensen's mate. And it is not that Jensen is averse to Jared – mating him, having sex with him – it is knowing that he will have to allow his wolf out, to accept being a wolf.

Jared insists that changing is relatively easy – _It's like changing your clothes, Jensen, just try it -_ but if you just change your clothes, you are still the same person inside. Jensen doesn't like that other person at all – even though Jared insists that changing will heal his scars with time, he just can't. He just has to bear the burn scars on his face and upper body, the scarred over parts of his thighs where they cut chunks out of them for _tissue samples._

“You know, I can almost hear you thinking,” Samantha says, startling Jensen with dangling a cup of coffee in front of his face.

Luke huffs, amused.

Of course, he smelled her entering the back porch long before Jensen did; his scenting ability is much better than the human's. Besides, Jensen is too distracted by his own thoughts most of the time.

“Thanks,” he says and grabs the mug, enjoying the warmth seeping into his fingers.

Samantha sits down on the wooden floor on Luke's other side, also petting the wolf, who looks like he could start purring.

For a few minutes there is blessed silence wrapped around the three of them, which is shredded way too soon when Sam starts speaking.

“It's not healthy what you're doing here, Jensen,” she says.

“I know, I'm-”

Lifting a hand, she interrupts. “Hear me out, please. I know that Jared told you about how wolf society works.”

Jensen nods, takes a sip of the strong, hot coffee. Sam immediately took to him, almost like a mother, which made enduring the pain easier when he found out that both of his parents died while he was... gone. Deep down in his heart he knows that she would never hurt him deliberately.

“We live in packs, and I think that you still don't grasp the meaning of _pack_. It's more than family since we're bonded on different levels – kinship, friendship; even just being a were means a deeper relationship than two humans could have.

“We know when one of ours is hurt, that's why you hurt the pack when you hurt a were. You can't imagine what Jared and his parents went through when Luke disappeared and they couldn't sense him.”

Luke makes a low, growling sound, and Sam rubs both hands soothingly over his head.

“It's not your fault, dear, it was the damn collar, and you know it just well enough. So, stop blaming yourself.”

She doesn't look at Jensen when she talks, gazes instead into the woods, that are green and brown and silent.

“I don't know why you're punishing yourself, Jensen, but as a were, you don't hurt only yourself, you hurt the pack too. And we watch out for our fellow pack members, we want to help. _Jared_ wants to help, but you don't let him, and you hurt him most of all.”

Jensen is glad that he doesn't have to bear her gaze on him. He feels embarrassed, ashamed; he knows that his inability to move on is taking its toll on Jared – but he just _can't_. Remembering the feeling of satisfaction he had while he was killing three people makes him shiver in disgust.

Jared really tries to help him. They even share a bed since it is the only way for Jensen to get some sleep, buried into Jared's soft, warm skin. He greedily takes everything Jared is willing to give, doesn't give back a thing, though. Apart from Luke, he never touches a wolf, and never touches Jared when he is wearing fur.

He's a bad person – wolf – whatever.

“I'm so sorry, Sam,” he admits softly. “I never wanted to hurt anybody.”

“I know, honey. You're a good boy.”

Jensen snorts. Sam ignores him.

“But you need to make up your mind. You need to accept this new life and let Jared and your pack help you, or you leave and find your own way afar. There's no in-between.” Standing and looking at him, she says, “You're welcome to stay, Jensen, you know that. Everyone would be happy if you stayed, but it's your choice. Make up your mind and spare Jared the pain.”

Jensen sighs. “I know. I will.”

Giving his shoulder a short pat, Sam goes inside, leaves him.

Hanging onto his cup of coffee, that has gone cold now, Jensen thinks.

He will have to hurt Jared by walking away in order to spare him the bigger pain of fading at Jensen's side.

Jared tries to assess the pain, but there are too many parts of his body that are hurting – his wrists and hands, his back and shoulders, his right knee.

His head is worst.

Jared groans and when he rolls onto his back, he feels his hands bound, probably with silver cuffs since they _burn_.

Finally prying his eyes open, he takes his surroundings in: a cabin, probably one of the standard cabins that are all over the mountains. He's in front of the fireplace, on the floor of the main room that contains the kitchen, the dining area and the living room. There's a wooden staircase leading to the first floor and, presumably, the bedrooms. Through the windows, he can see that it's dark outside, the only light provided by a few embers of a dying fire in the fireplace.

With a groan, he lets his head slump back on the floor.

 _Ouch_.

This is not good.

Looks like some humans are hunting wolves, and they know what they're doing.

This is _so_ not good.

Jared tries to send _distress_ to Jensen, his pack, whoever may listen, but it's not working; maybe he is too far away, maybe it's the silver cuffs interfering. If he had a phone he could call his friends in the Bureau, but no such luck.

This is _absolutely_ not good.

When noises drag him back into consciousness, it must be much later, but it's still dark outside. Lamps are on – shining too bright for Jared's hurting eyes. Someone is squatting in front of him, and Jared flinches.

Male. Human. _Hunter_.

Outside the cabin, Jared can hear more humans, but it is only because they just don't keep quiet. His senses are dulled, as if he was under water.

“Well, look who's finally awake,” the stranger says, chuckling low. “You put up quite a fight, puppy. We had to use three tranquilizer darts and still smack you over the head to get you down.”

Jared tries to remember, but draws a blank. He can't remember facing humans; the last thing he still knows for sure is hunting a deer – the joy of running, of feeling free for a short time. He just had to get his head free of thoughts about Jensen and their non-existent relationship.

It's already better than a few months ago; Jensen coils himself around Jared's body in the night as if his life depends on it, and maybe it really does. He still doesn't accept his wolf though, and Jared can talk about wolves and life as a wolf and changing until he turns blue – Jensen still sits on the porch, staring into the woods, sad and lonely.

It's tearing Jared apart on the inside. Jensen is his mate, and his mate is sad and sick, and being unable to help makes Jared sick too. He just wanted a few hours of thinking _something else_ , and now he's at the mercy of some potentially crazy humans.

He tries to blink the man into focus, but all he can distinguish are teeth, broad and pearly white. Teeth are always important to wolves; they tear and bite and claim, but all these teeth do is grin with intent to hurt.

Jared is too concentrated and distressed to notice the other human kneeling down behind him; it's only when the silver shackles are removed that he starts squirming and bucking, but his wrists are held in a vice-like grip of hands.

The grinning teeth are approaching, bringing fists and feet along, that pummel Jared's face and kick the air out of him. But he can feel the residue of the silver leave his body, can sense his wolf becoming stronger, and it's just another minute until he will rip out throats and swallow down lumps of flesh.

_Just another minute..._

Unfortunately, the human has other plans. He’s wielding a gun – a _tranquilizer gun_ – and pumping Jared's blood full of sedatives.

 _Jensen_ , is on Jared's mind before the dark rushes in, and he would have loved to have this as his last conscious thought, but he actually thinks something else.

_It's a trap._

“Jensen, stop it. You're wearing the floor thin.”

But Jensen doesn't hear Jim's complaint. He's on edge, too tense to sit still; it feels like there are ants in his veins, crawling and biting at his flesh.

So Jensen keeps on moving – from the kitchen window to the porch door and back to the window – while Jim and Jeff are playing cards at the table.

“For fuck's sake, Jensen!” Jim growls, throwing the cards on the table. “Sit your ass down!”

“It's no use, Jim,” Jeff says and picks up the cards on the floor. “He's an alpha.”

“Don't you feel it?” Jensen asks, gazing out of the window and seeing only his own reflection in the dark window pane. “It's like... touching an electric fence.”

“That's the moon, son. She's calling to your wolf.”

Jensen stops dead in his tracks. His eyes grow wide.

“That's... I can't...”

Jeff lifts a hand. “It's okay. But you can't shut him out forever. Your wolf is a part of you; if you don't connect with him, it's like holding your breath for too long until you’re blue in the face.”

That is what Jensen's scared of: denying the beast until it's too late; accepting it and losing himself in blood and violence. But right now – _right now_ – he feels like he is suffocating, choking on life and fate and the fear of his future. And something is not right, something out there is not like it should be.

“I... I'm...” he stammers, forcing his brain to decide on what he needs. “I need some air.”

He bolts outside, seeks refuge in the dark, wants to lose himself in the night.

It's still a few nights until full moon, but if he already feels the moon's pull...

He knows he won't survive full moon – the wolf will win, and Jensen, the Jensen that he is now, will be dead.

Crashing through the underbrush, Jensen doesn't feel the scratches and wounds caused by thicket and brambles.

When he stops panting, he is lost among huge trees, but somehow, he knows where to go. It's not the moon calling to him, because she hangs just over the mountain ridge east of the town, but the call, the pull comes from deep inside the woods.

A few miles further, the call is getting more distinctive, but it seems to be kind of muffled or muted – the feelings unclear. All Jensen knows for sure is that he must get there because it's _Jared_ and _distress_.

Sharp pain under his finger nails makes him lift his hands, look at his fingers. The light is dim under the canopy of leaves, but still he can see how sharp and long his nails are.

He really should get some scissors and cut them to a decent length. Being so immersed in the wolf – and Jared – problem, he lost track of his body's needs. Nevertheless, he could have sworn that his finger nails were blunt just an hour earlier.

Another surge of _urgency_ makes him resume his run.

Jared wishes someone would come to save him.

If it meant someone crashing through the door, wearing shiny armor or not, he'd gladly be the damsel in distress in this sad and vicious play. As it is, though, there's no one on their way to help him.

Due to the silver cuffs, his wolf is weak, and Jared is not able to separate himself from him; the boundaries are too blurred to keep up the personalities.

Jared moans in pain, and his wolf whines.

“Shut up, filthy mutt,” the human watching him says, kicking him in the ribs, which doesn't help with breathing.

Someone enters the room, but it's only when they walk to the guard's side that Jared sees it's the hunter he encountered first. Apparently, he's the boss.

“What's up, Travis?” the guard asks.

“I tried radioing Jake, but no luck,” the boss hunter – Travis – replies, and he sounds pissed.

“Oh, I bet he's just taking a leak.”

“I'll have his head if he’s fallen asleep again,” Travis growls. “Kay'll be here soon.”

A commotion outside makes him lift his head, listen to the creaking of wood, the moaning of flesh.

Jared is turning his torso towards the window, then towards the door. Incredulously, he scents the air; it's not easy to distinguish odors in the muffled state the silver keeps him in.

What he discerns is not possible though – and he hopes he's wrong.

“No,” he whispers when the door bursts open, crashes into the wall. Followed by a gust of wind, inside steps the man he wants to see so bad it hurts; and simultaneously, he wants him to be miles away.

In view of the Hollywood-style scene, Jared's heart is clenching tight in his chest – missing a beat – stopping at all; maybe he's already dead and in Hell. He wants to warn of the danger lying in wait, but it's too late now.

“You fucking keep your hands off him,” Jensen growls, “or I'll tear you limb from limb. And I don't mean in a metaphorical sense.”

Jensen looks... _powerful,_ confident. He seems wolfish, but it's not the sharp fingernails or the glint in his beautiful green eyes.

He's stalking into the room as if he owns it, his demeanor oozing _danger_.

Jensen is beautiful.

“Oh, look what we have here,” Travis says condescendingly, looking at ease, but Jared can see the cautiousness coiling under his skin. “Little puppy finally came out to play.”

“Jensen...” Jared breathes, but neither man pays attention to him.

“You harm a hair on his head, you're dead,” Jensen snarls, slowly circling the guys while keeping them in sight. “No wait, you already did.”

“Ohhh! Little puppy is so angry,” Travis mocks him.

Suddenly, Jensen stumbles, and Jared _knows_ it's not good.

Lifting his arm and reaching behind his neck, Jensen plucks at something that's stuck in his flesh, but it's only when he drops it on the floor that Jared sees the dart, just a few inches long.

“Tranqs? You're kidding me,” Jensen says, and his voice is... _off_ , piercing – a blade ground on stone. He sniffs the air, his eyes blazing in green fire.

Jared twists his torso until he's able to see who shot the dart: on the landing in front of the rooms above, there's a black-clad person, almost merging with the darkness outside of the fiery glow.

Another attempt to warn his not-yet-mate gets lost in Jensen's stumble when another projectile embeds itself in his shoulder.

Roaring, Jensen pounces on Travis, his body twisting and cracking, and the thing that's landing on Travis, burying its teeth deep into the man's shoulder – it's the most beautiful wolf that Jared hoped to see again.

Jared's breath hitches.

Jensen is a _wolf_.

It's a logical move to change from man to wolf because it counteracts the sedatives in his blood, but there is _no full moon_ outside! Why is Jensen a wolf when it's at least one week until full moon?

On the other side – why would a wolf that's strong enough to survive _years_ caged and subdued be bound to the lunar cycle?

Jared's freaking out.

He's screaming; the humans are screaming; there's blood everywhere; it's raining darts – it's _chaos_.

But when Jensen collapses from too many tranquilizer darts, and Jared's head connects one time too many with a heavy boot, all that is left is blessed silence.

Jensen remembers Jared on the floor, obviously bound and hurt. He also remembers the _rage,_ the immeasurable rage burning him with cold fire.

He remembers sharing the feeling with his human, remembers how they wanted to shred the world to bloody ribbons, just to get to his mate.

But then the world retaliated, and now he's weak and exhausted, also bound and hurting.

The feeling, though – it's still there, simmering under a fine coat of _keep your temper_.

Turning his head, he can see Jared, just a few inches away. When his claws find leverage on the floor, he pushes himself closer until he can lay his head down on Jared's shoulder, puffing hot air into his neck.

Jared opens his eyes, whispers, “Jensen,” and there's nothing else Jensen could need.

For a few blessed minutes it's only them; then an odor permeates the room that definitely is not human – that smells just _wrong_.

Jensen growls.

“Shhhh,” Jared tries to soothe him. “It's okay.”

Footsteps make the hardwood floor vibrate; a human form comes into Jensen's field of vision, but it's not completely human because he can _smell_ it's not.

Squatting down before Jensen and his mate, the female non-human ( _not a wolf_ ) smiles at them crookedly, dragging a sharp claw over Jared's cheek.

Both wolves bare their teeth, growling.

“Finally I have you,” she says. “Right where I want you.”

Her focus, piercing and cold, turns to Jensen – her eyes too blue, her teeth too sharp, her blonde fur disheveled.

His human thinks _still a pup_ , but all Jensen can think is _rabid._ She's dangerous – like eating a too long dead hare is dangerous – also disgusting.

He is glad though that he's able to interact with his human now. It was hard to never get an answer when he was howling and scratching at his human’s mind, trying to get through to him without success, for _years_. Just once was he able to do what he was supposed to do – save his human, protect his mate. And he had been so happy about his strong, handsome mate, but then his human shut him out for too long, didn't listen to him.

“You're quite cute,” the she-thing says to Jensen, who snaps at her to avoid the touch of her fingers. “You know, for a killer,” she continues, curling her fingers back.

“Who are you?” Jared croaks, and his voice reveals his exhaustion.

Standing up, she answers Jared, but still looks at Jensen. “I don't know you ever heard of me, but you killed my father.”

“Your...”

“You wormed your way into his confidence like the dirty snake you are, and then this mongrel mauled him to death.”

With a slight gasp, Jared says, “You're Omundson's daughter... Kathryn. You're supposed to be in Europe.”

“Oh, I know. I never do what I'm supposed to.” She shrugs her shoulder.

It's almost impossible for Jensen to bear the sight of this abomination; everything about this she-thing makes his skin crawl with disgust. His human whispers something about _compassion_ and _sympathy,_ so he relents – refrains from trying to bite her head off.

Pacing the room, she resumes talking.

“I never understood why dad didn't want me at the compound. The possibilities where boundless, but all he did was collect remedies for the benefit of mankind. It would have been so easy to become more than human, but did he ever listen?”

Jared snorts. “What do you call _easy_? Turning a human is extremely harmful, most of them die during the process.”

“I know! Only the strong survive, but there's a way to remove the element of uncertainty from the equation!”

Jensen can see her face; it's a scary sight, shining with the light of madness.

The sudden awareness makes Jared gasp. “What did you do?” he whispers.

“I made myself better than any human, better than any _animal_ , could be,” she replies with a voice full of hubris. It's his human supplying this word; Jensen is preoccupied with trying to wiggle out of his bonds because he needs to _protect_ , but his human is aghast at her words.

All this human talking and yapping. Jensen is so fed up with it, he needs to _do_ something.

Unfortunately, the ropes don't budge an inch, and all he can do is make a frustrated huff. He wants his human to come out, which is not working either, maybe because of this weird stuff the ropes are made of that makes his skin itch.

“You're crazy!” Jared is shaking with rage. “You tried to turn yourself into a werewolf! Do you even know about the consequences?”

With a movement of her hand she sweeps Jared's question aside.

“I don't need to fear _consequences_. I created myself from the best cell substance there is, and now I'm better than any of you little mutts!”

Jensen doesn't listen to his human, who tries to explain what she's talking about. He just wants her gone so he doesn't have to look at her anymore.

“Anyway!” she exclaims cheerfully, clapping her hands in anticipation. “I have to see to a hurt human and then decide on how to kill both of you. Don't wait up for me!”

After swift kicks to their stomachs, she takes her leave.

Jared doesn't know what to do.

His wolf is too exhausted from the silver fetters, and try as he might, there's no way to shed them; and since Jensen is neither able to get rid of the ropes binding him nor change into his human form, all they can do is wait.

Wait for Kathryn to come back and kill both of them.

Jared can't comprehend how a human would undergo that kind of transformation of their own free will. It's said to be very painful, not to mention potentially lethal. And obviously Kathryn's body is proof how dangerous the process is – disfigured, stuck halfway between woman and wolf. Also, her brain didn't escape unharmed.

Or maybe she was borderline crazy before, since no sane person would come up with the idea of turning themselves into a werewolf.

Jared sighs.

Jensen's head is heavy on his stomach, his breath warm and regular. Jared would give an arm to be able to touch and pet the wolf; it's Life's kick in Jared's ass that now that Jensen found his wolf and connected with him, Jared is unable to simply _touch_.

Besides, there's this _You’re_ _gonna die soon_ thing.

He tries to send out distress calls knowing they're good for nothing, when there are noises from above.

Someone's scratching inside the bedroom, and then a thin brown wolf slinks down the stairs, his claws click-clacking on the steps.

“Luke?” Jared asks disbelievingly.

Jensen lifts his head, his tail thumping the ground happily when he notices his friend.

It really is Jared's brother; he can feel his warmth, the hairs of Luke's coat tickling Jared's face when the wolf licks it with relief.

“What are you doing here?” Jared asks in a hushed voice. “Who's with you, where are they?”

But the wolf is sitting on his haunches, head tilted, and Jared realizes the problem: Luke can't help them without opposable thumbs.

Jensen sees it too, as his whining indicates.

“Maybe... can you gnaw through the ropes?” Jared asks just as Luke starts walking round him to get to Jensen's back.

The ropes are thick and heavy, but given time, it should be possible to gnaw them to pieces – unless they cause blisters on the corners of Luke's mouth.

Luke is rubbing at his mouth with his paw, whining and huffing in frustration, and Jared loses hope in saving themselves.

All he can do is wait – for his pack to come and rescue them, for Kathryn to come and kill them. Whatever happens first.

Apparently, though, Luke has a mind of his own and thinks there's something left to do.

He's growling and squirming and twisting himself; his bones realign themselves, his coat disappears, and wide-eyed, Jared sees his brother _changing._

Just a few minutes later, a very human Luke is lying on the floor, panting after the exertion of forcing his body in a different form after too long.

“Ouch,” he groans.

“Luke,” Jared says staring at his pale, long-limbed, still too thin brother.

“Hey, little brother.” Luke grins sheepishly.

Whining Jensen demands attention, and Luke ruffles his fur.

“I need to get you out of here,” he says.

“I couldn't agree with you more,” Jared deadpans.

The ropes binding Jensen still burn Luke's hands, but less than they did his wolf's mouth. It takes a lot of cautious fumbling and quite some hissing and growling until Jensen's fetters finally fall away.

Extricating himself stiffly from the bundle of ropes, Jensen stands and shakes himself vehemently. His relief is palpable, though short-lived – footsteps are coming nearer. He tenses and snarls.

“Hurry up,” Jared urges his brother, who is picking the locks of his cuffs with something Jared can't see. The only answer he gets is a grunt.

The moment Jared is free, the door opens and in comes the man that was in the house with Travis earlier. He stops in his tracks, startled.

“Uhm, Miss Kay?” he says when Omundson's daughter enters the room.

Both of them carry guns that will shoot more than tranquilizer darts.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” she says, laughing maniacally.

Jensen's poised to attack, his fur bristling, his claws scratching the wooden floor. Luke seems equally ready to rip some throats out though he stays in the background. Jared can't blame him since he just reconnected with his human. And Jared...

Jared is so _done_ with this situation and humans hurting werewolves. He just hopes that they'll be able to live in peace when Kathryn and her henchmen are gone. How many children did Omundson have?

His wolf is pushing to the surface, urging him to kill his tormentors and protect his mate and pack.

“Famous last words,” Jared growls, barely comprehensible through his elongating teeth.

He charges, changing in midair, and Jensen is right next to him.

The woods have lost their sinister feel.

Now, when he dreams about trees and woods, the floor is moss-covered and the underbrush light. Sunbeams cut through the foliage, and when Jensen wakes, his gut aches to run, so he runs.

He gets to know his wolf better – how he loves to run free and play with the cubs; his wicked sense of humor and his need to protect his pack. They communicate with each other, and Jensen now knows he can do this, because he is not a bad person and his wolf is not a beast.

His wolf is _not_ a beast.

Jensen still likes to sit on the back porch, but now he watches the little ones frolicking around the garden, sometimes joined by a parent. Frequently, Luke plays along, changing his form at will.

Once in a while he's joined by Jared, sitting next to him with their fingers entwined, or behind him with his chest pressed against Jensen's back, sharing body heat.

Their relationship is growing slowly, but it's growing. Jensen's wolf is eager to mate, still waits patiently though because Jensen wants to take it one step at a time.

His life is so different from the one he had planned before a sick man sent him into a nightmare. Now though... sitting close to his mate, united with his wolf, being part of a pack…now Jensen is happy.

 

~fin~


End file.
